


thirsty for your love

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 17:52:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a messy trail of empty cans and chlorine soaked towels follows them into the apartment, the bedroom, the bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	thirsty for your love

**Author's Note:**

> A trillion years ago I submitted this anonymously to fuckyeahmichaelgavin on tumblr, but I thought I'd post it here as well. I'm pretty new to writing sex and this is definitely the strangest thing I've ever written so that's why it's so overtly verbose, but hey, expanding horizons and all.

Long lazy days are wasted out by the pool, either laid out in the sun or under the cold blue water. Tiptoeing around the rules (if the apartment complex wanted them to be followed they’d appoint a lifeguard,) the pair drags along a cooler filled with ice and cold blue cans from the apartment as well as long beach towels and, despairingly enough, no sunglasses. Michael teasingly berates Gavin who walks with shoulders slumped as he enters the iron pool gates, dragging his feet on the concrete. They can go back to the apartment to get them Michael says, but Gavin insists it’s a waste of time.

They won’t be heading back for a while.

It’s not often they feel like they can be like this, two friends –more than friends? Debatable- away from the eye of work friends or acquaintance friends or outside of anything but each other and the rippling blue water.

When the sun’s as hot as it is in the heart of a Texas summer and the water’s this frigid, Gavin likes to take his time and ease his way in the pool, to acclimate. Michael, on the other hand, likes playing rough. While Gavin hovers over the lip of the four-foot mark Michael sneaks behind him, stealth and silence until he’s close enough to make an impact. He shoves the skinnier boy and Gavin topples with a yelp, turning just fast enough to grab Michael’s wrist and drag him into the chilly water.

Gavin laughs an underwater laugh, which is more of a cough before he has to fight his way to the surface, soothing the burn in his lungs. Michael is there waiting for him, wiping water out of his eyes and frowning, probably calling Gavin a dumb shit or an asshole, but in that sickeningly angry way where playful insults would be on a normal person. Gavin’s known for babbling nonsense, but Michael has a language of his own too. It’s tricky to learn, but Gavin thinks he has it figured out.

They play for a little while like that. And there’s no other word for it than play. They duck under water, swim circles around each other, try and dart away and get yanked back. It’s juvenile, and in that it’s comfortable. They laugh themselves silly and the sun threatens to tinge their skin past freckles and tan, and eventually they crawl out of the water, spent, content to rest for a moment. 

They get looks as they settle to breathe for a while, Gavin loudly cracking open a tube of sunscreen. But the looks of strangers just don’t seem to matter today while they share each other’s company. Gavin does hesitate when Michael asks him to do his shoulders and back, but only for a second. Months ago, when things had been complicated and awkward he might have refused. But since then he’s had a lot of discussions, a lot of drinks, and more than one flabbergasted frustrated kiss with the shorter boy. Doing him a common courtesy like this isn’t reason for panic.

He massages handfuls of sunscreen into Michael’s back, humming along with a song in his head while he does so. His hands should hesitate on Michael’s skin, he should look around to make sure no one sees how he relaxes the flat of his palm into the soft muscle, or how Michael sighs contentedly at the feel of it. But those are afterthoughts, dizzy warnings burned away with the water dripping onto the pavement.

Once Gavin’s done Michael returns the favor, though not nearly as gently or with finesse. Gavin doesn’t think the other boy intentionally seeks out the places where the sun has hit him most, but he finds them all the same, playfully smacking handfuls of sunscreen on to him until he’s pale white. Gavin grimaces, wriggling away after the sting becomes prominent, laughing as his overly slicked body slides out of the other boy’s grip. Michael gets up to give chase, but instead announces that he’s thirsty, and Gavin finds himself agreeing. 

They get tipsy then, as expected. What starts out as a couple casual drinks transforms into empty cans rolling across the concrete, Gavin with his arms tossed over the lip of the pool, lazily and dizzily willing one to roll towards him. The beer can doesn’t listen but Michael does, swimming up behind his friend and leaping, wrapping drenched arms around the skinny boy’s frame, pulling him close, pulling him backwards. Gavin sways with the demand, ignoring his toppled can in favor of toppling over, swirling without direction until he’s under water, eyes open and stinging as he searches out his attacker’s face. And then Michael’s is inches away from his, and he doesn’t think as he closes the gap between them, nudging his nose against Michael’s for a fraction of a second before turning upwards.

Then Gavin surfaces, shaking the water out of his hair. Michael comes up a second later laughing, real honest laughing and it’s clear that he’s more than a little drunk. Awkwardness should open then, Gavin thinks. He should hesitate, Michael should freeze. It’s been… a week? Maybe two since their last stupid impulsive rendezvous and so they should hesitate and scoff off stupid feelings they don’t want. Like they always do.

They don’t as Gavin crashes in Michael’s open arms, kissing him again, and again and again and again, all over. After he kisses his lips he veers left, to the side of his mouth. His cheek, the corner of his eye. He loves kissing Michael, and admitting it feels almost as good as the freckled skin under his lips.

Michael doesn’t seem to mind either, but it’s not until the eighth or ninth kiss that Gavin realizes Michael is kissing back. Little pecks on his jaw or his collarbone, reserved but hungry. 

Gavin is laughing too.

They leave with the sunset, dragging their bodies out of the water, dragging towels close to their bodies as the wind takes a chill. Not a big enough one to turn off the air at the apartment or warn them of a cool down, but enough so that Michael wraps his blanket tight around his shoulders and Gavin, on wobbly legs, pulls him close, kissing the side of his head.

They realize when they’re halfway home that left the cooler at the pool. They’ll have to retrieve that later.

When they get in, Gavin flops down on Michael’s bed, getting it damp with his trunks and not giving a damn. He’s supposed to be changing into dry clothes but he feels heavy, drained of energy. Michael comes in a few minutes later when Gavin should be dressed, but instead finds the slighter boy sprawled out on the bed, eyes closed, fine Italian skin red with sunburn. His body is all bones and angles, skinny as a rake with soft skin and a trail of hair winging up towards his bellybutton and fanning out over his chest. His eyes are closed; his hair is a soft, damp halo behind him.

Sober, Michael’s mind would never admit the boy’s body could be so pretty. Luckily, he’s pretty drunk. 

There’s no pause in what Michael does next, desire taking the place of cognitive thought. He wobbles across the room, steadying himself only once he’s got an arm on either side of Gavin’s chest, smiling down as water drips from his hair into Gavin’s closed eyes.

“Michael,” Gavin mutters lazily, flicking his eyes open and rolling his head back once he sees just how close the other boy is. He laughs, attempting to push him away, there’s no effort under his fingertips. Michael stands his ground, inching closer until his knees are framing Gavin’s hips.

“Michael.” Gavin laughs again.

He lets Michael kiss him, which is a nice thing. Usually when they sneak kisses it’s like in the pool, closed mouth, sweet, affectionate. Sometimes it’s the absolute polar opposite, hungry, ravenous kisses from deprived and angry boys. But this is nice, this middle ground. Michael’s tongue is soft on Gavins’s own, just about as boisterous as the rest of him. Gavin’s less hyped up than he usually is, no doubt helped by the drain of the summer, and he takes joy in the simple pleasure of kissing back, nipping at Michael’s lip, moving his head with the ginger’s as he pulls away.

But Gavin doesn’t want to stop. His hands, once resting behind his head, now move up to Michael’s body, curious for the feel of him again, finding his hips, his back. Michael gives into the touch, leaning back down to reaffirm his place on Gavin’s lips, maybe a little more aggressive this time. Gavin welcomes it as his hands roam further, daring to slip over the waist of his trunks towards his waistline. At this, Michael caves to need and rolls his hips, pressing himself flush to Gavin’s body.

The first sign of friction is like lightning to them both, sharp and jarring and good. Michael rocks his hips down again and Gavin hums comfortably, answering with his own body, arching his back for more contact. Michael can hear Gavin’s breathing pick up and Gavin can almost feel Michael’s heartbeat double its pace. Something visceral and hungry pulls them closer, tangles their hands and lips and make them start to pant with need.

Michael pulls back, studying Gavin’s face. His lips are slightly parted, the pupils in the center of his bright silver eyes dilated. Michael licks his lips, drawing in deep breaths.

“Do you want to?”

And Gavin, unable to even think further than one word, answers,

“Yeah.”

And maybe it’s because Michael is shorter, maybe it’s the booze (yes, it is the booze,) Gavin assumes that he’ll be leading this circus. He moves to get up, to ease Michael on to his back, not expecting the resistance he finds. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Michael asks as Gavin struggles to sit up. Gavin garbles something that translates into an answer and Michael laughs, shaking his head. 

“Lie down, moron.”

Gavin protests again, out of habit more than anything, but Michael is adamant. Gavin gives a half hearted push on Michael’s chest but it’s for naught. Eventually he goes pliant under Michael’s touch as the other boy relaxes backwards, resting on his knees. Gavin gasps as Michael’s deft fingers slider over the string of his swim trunks. His hands hardly fumble on the fabric and a second later he’s pulling it away.

Gavin is hard already, has been for some time, and he feels himself blushing as Michael studies him, wrapping a curious hand around his shaft and giving a pump, laughing as Gavin gasps and his legs tense.

“You’re not wasting any time then, are you?” Gavin asks, handling the sight of his friend with a hand tight around his cock as well as he can. Michael just rolls his eyes and laughs, giving his head a small shake. He helps Gavin shimmy his trunks off the rest of the way and leans back admiring the gorgeous tan naked boy in front of him.

“Don’t ask questions.” He says.

Gavin, for once, agrees, and then props himself up on his elbows instead, watching as Michael does away with his own trunks. Hesitantly he drags them down past his cock and over the swell of his ass and Gavin can’t help but stare, if only at the situation he’s in. Michael’s body is a fine thing and for all the passive jokes he makes about the size of his junk, he’s nothing to scoff at.

Gavin’s staring unabashedly and it’s Michael’s turn to get shy, but not for long. Leaning down to rest on one arm, he takes his and Gavin’s cocks in one hand, letting out a choked gasp along with the other boy at the contact. He could go with just this, he realizes. He’s drunk enough and collapsing onto Gavin after a mutual come would be nice. But he wants so much more than nice.

Gavin whines as Michael lets go of them and Michael silences him as he leans down with a kiss. He can still feel Gavin’s cock, hard and pressing incessantly into the curve of his stomach. He chuckles; loving how desperate Gavin is for him. Not that he’s any less desperate, honestly.

Slowly Michael eases back again, moving so he can push Gavin’s knees up until he has access to his ass. Gay sex isn’t something he wastes too much time thinking about, but he knows the basics. Leaving Gavin to writhe on the bed for a little, he rummages through a side drawer near his bed, returning with a bottle of slick.

Once he’s got it he wastes no time getting the bottle open, coating his fingers and letting himself do what feels right. Again, his familiarity with technique is sketchy at best, learnt mostly from porn and guess work, but he doesn’t appear to fuck up anything too bad. Gavin’s babblings hit an all time high as Michael teases the rim of his asshole for a second before pushing in, slowly until Gavin tells him to pause. It isn’t long though before another finger soon joins that, then a third, and within minutes Gavin’s eyes are screwed shut and he’s panting, nodding, sighing ‘okay’.

Antsy, Michael takes his cock, slicking it up heavily before he moves closer. His hands direct Gavin’s legs up, and then his torso. Gavin lets his legs fall lax on either side of Michael’s person so he’s lying down, his ass balanced in Michael’s lap. And then, finally, Gavin relaxes completely, falling backwards and working his hands into the soft sheets that surround him.

The head of Michael’s cock is at his ass now, and they’re both tense with concentration. Gavin has given up on waiting or being more prepared than he can be already, and instead closes his eyes, rolling his hips up in a gentle ‘go for it’ kind of motion.

Michael wastes no time, aligning himself before slowly pushing in.

And it’s hot. Hot and different and fucking amazing. Gavin groans at the intrusion but Michael is silent with focus. The drag of skin mixed with the sudden heat and tightness sets his nerve endings on fire and his body begs him for more, faster. By the time he’s buried himself in to the hilt he’s shivering with effort, telling himself not to come, to make it last.

And though the pressure in his body is making Michael’s fingers dig into Gavin’s hips and making his thighs quiver, he knows he can’t continue on until Gavin’s ready. He’s just a courteous son of a bitch like that. 

As things are now, Gavin is limp in Michael’s lap, his eyes closed and teeth digging into his bottom lip. He doesn’t look like he’s in pain as much as he seems uncomfortable and every minor movement Michael makes rewards him with a squeak or a gasp. It’s a toss up between pity or amusement as he watches Gavin squirm, getting used to him.

Pity wins out as it usually does though, and Michael detaches his hands from Gavin’s hips before he gives his hips a tentative thrust. Gavin gasps under him, eyes going wide before he squeezes them shut.

“C’mere,” Michael says, reaching out a hand. His voice a soft and welcome contrast to the muffled whines and the squeak of the bed. Gavin answers him slowly, reaching up a hand to support himself on Michael until he’s all but seated on the boy’s lap. The goal had not been for Gavin to push himself deeper on to Michael’s cock, to fill himself more and add to the stretch and burn, and yet there he is. All the same, the feel of Gavin accidentally fucking himself is enough to make Michael moan, his hands gripping Gavin’s hips, fingernails digging into his skin. He wants to fuck him so bad, wants to thrust his hips deeper, feel the heat and pressure until he sees white.

But not yet.

Even the thought of fucking Gavin is exhausting, and Michael’s head topples on to Gavin’s shoulder as they sit vertical to each other. He’s panting from the newness and goodness of it all, they both are, and it takes Michael a second to feel the way Gavin’s tentatively running his fingers through his hair. Gavin is feeling him, desperate for something to feel. He’s tentative and curious and Michael leans into it. The little brushes of hot breath against his shoulder turn to soft kisses, trailing up to his neck and it doesn’t take Michael long to turn his head and meet Gavin’s lips.

Softly Michael begins to move his hips in slow and shallow circles. Gavin’s first response is to squirm, but a second later Michael’s hand returns to Gavin’s cock, stroking it back to hardness after so little attention between them. Gavin seems to forget about everything but that then, choking out a guttural sound before propping his forehead against Michael’s.

Then Michael starts to move faster, timing his hips with the pace of his hand. Gavin mumbles something, wincing softly, but his noises are silenced eventually as Michael tips his head up with his free hand, finding Gavin’s lips with his own. His hand comes to rest on Gavin’s cheek and he holds him there. 

Soft, not a demand that the other boy kiss him, but a request.

This works well, as Gavin begins to kiss back, more vigorous as Michael starts to fuck him harder. Gavin is whimpering, begging for something imperceptible, possibly intangible. Those whimpers and needy whines are swallowed by Michael, regifted in his own reassuring whispers. Gavin leans closer to him, rocking in time with Michael’s hips and fist, slowly growing hungry for contact. Now Michael can feel his toes start to curl and waves of heat starting to spread through his body.

When Gavin stops kissing him so desperately Michael’s hand drops from his face and instead rests on his thigh, holding him steady. He starts to move faster, pull out longer and longer each time before thrusting back inside. Gavin is gasping, panting and grunting, and not completely unhappily so. With each movement Michael adjusts the angle of his hips, working until one random thrust of his hips makes Gavin scream. His body tenses, his legs suddenly wrap tight around Michael’s body.

“Again, there, there,” Gavin gasps, wrapping his hands messily around Michael’s back and pulling him closer. Michael obliges, working again to hit that same spot and getting rewarded with Gavin clenching tighter around him. They work in tandem, Gavin grinding down to meet Michael’s hips, Michael furiously jerking Gavin off to the pace of their fucking. Thoughts and rhythm dissipate in the heat of the moment as they move more and more frantically.

Finally, the effort causes Michael to bury his head between Gavin’s neck and shoulders. He makes a long choked sound as he comes, pulling Gavin as close as he can and holding on to him tightly, needing the friction and the skin and the smell of sweat as his body writhes through his orgasm. 

His hand accidently stills on Gavin’s cock but the other boy won’t have it, messily grabbing at himself as Michael rocks into him. Michael picks up a second later, still jerking him off as he feels the slickness of his own come in Gavin’s ass. Gavin feels it too, gasps around it, but all of his focus is on his cock now. He grips Michael’s hand in the hope of directing him but Michael is pulling away, backwards, out of him. The emptiness is somehow stranger than being filled, and Gavin might be distracted with it if he wasn’t busy watching Michael study him, watching him lean down. One swipe of Michael’s tongue across the head of his cock is enough to make Gavin cry out, but Michael is focused. Gavin wastes no time burying his hands in Michael’s hair, thrusting his hips up into the warm cave of Michael’s mouth. It’s not long at all until it’s too much, and Gavin holds Michael close as he comes.

Which is disgusting, sticky, more than a little rude Gavin knows. Michael chokes around him, pulls back with a weak gag and gives Gavin a look, one that might be cross if he wasn’t so drunk and post-orgasmic. Gavin smiles weakly, feeling all kinds of feather light and yet weighted down. Michael only pauses to wipe his mouth on the sheets once before he’s kissing Gavin again, demanding an apology.

They fall back into the pillows and blankets, warm and content and utterly ruined. As Michael rolls on to his side he can feel the faint lines Gavin dug into his back like aftershocks, and Gavin’s ass feels just abused. Different, a strange definition of “good”, but still thoroughly abused. 

Somehow, even though it’s hardly past eight pm and there are still traces of pink in the sky, habit takes over not long after they fall back. Michael pulls the comforter over himself and Gavin, like he thinks about doing every night. Gavin stretches out, welcoming Michael’s body in his arms. They smell of chlorine and sweat and coconut oil. They’re dirty from sex, and yet utterly spent in each other’s arms.

It’s the booze, the booze and the sun and the pool and the haze of aftersex that’s taken them. Like so many times today it should be weird. Gavin shouldn’t be able to look into Michael’s eyes before he gets heavy lidded, ducking his head and pulling himself closer to his friend. Michael shouldn’t accept Gavin’s bony frame into his arms, holding him tight and letting out a contented sigh.

And yet, as he tips his head down, smelling Gavin’s still damp hair and drifting in and out of consciousness, that’s just what they do.


End file.
